


Need You to Need Me

by modambrosia, Undertale_Writing_Challenges



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (yet), Arguing, Broken Bones, Collaboration, Grinding, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, No Sex, Red Is An Emotional Fungus, Sickness, Teasing, collab fic, cracked bones, ecto stuff as usual, gratuitous cameo from mariokart, no ecto junk yet though, or well, tra la la beware the woman who is bad at tagging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 18:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15891375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modambrosia/pseuds/modambrosia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Undertale_Writing_Challenges/pseuds/Undertale_Writing_Challenges
Summary: Red gets into a nasty fight and Sans comes over to take care of him. Things escalate.





	Need You to Need Me

**Author's Note:**

> mod: SHITTTTTT UHHHHH  
> hi lol  
> there we go
> 
> uwc: after tHREE MONTHS we have finally released this glorious masterpiece *unfinished.* BUT that's because it was getting too long??? we had a goal of 2,500 words and surprise we went over that hah because that was unexpected right. it'll get continued though. eventually. 
> 
> nevertheless i'm super happy with how it turned out! it's not mod's style, and it's not my style. we kinda just. morphed. into. one super great new style. 
> 
> ((also i was pestering mod for a note to put here and that's what she sent me and so that's why that's her note))
> 
> ((alternatively, i am a bitch))

It’s no secret that Sans and Edge do not consider themselves friends. Acquaintances, at best. It’s not that there exists a blatant dislike for one another -- no, they simply just don’t  _ care.  _ It’s not often that one passes by in the thoughts of the other, and they especially don’t bother to go out of their way to chat.

 

So when Sans glances down at his phone, blinking away the sleep in his eyes, only to find Edge’s furious contact photo buzzing up at him… he can only assume the worst.  

 

(He doesn’t even have to pick up to know it’s about Red. It’s always about Red whenever Edge calls; it’s the only reason he would call in the first place.)

 

“what did he do  _ this  _ time,” Sans deadpans the moment he’s answered the call. 

 

“A better question would be, what  _ hasn’t  _ he done,” Edge’s voice is heavy with exasperation; rough with sleep and flatter than a pancake, but there’s an underlying tone of concern. 

 

“it better be good enough to wake me up at--” Sans pauses to check the time, “ _ fuck,  _ at six in the damn morning.” His voice is clipped but, despite his words, he’s already rolled out of bed and is struggling to shuffle into a clean pair of shorts.  

 

Edge lets out a deep sigh on the other end. “Let’s cut the bullshit, okay? I wouldn’t be calling you if I had any other options.” That’s not entirely true and they both know that. Sans is always Edge’s first choice;  _ they  _ might not get along well but, when it comes to he and Red, they’re nearly inseparable.

 

Sans and Red get along  _ quite  _ well. 

 

He groans into the receiver and drags a hand down his skull, fighting against the magic that begins to tinge on his cheeks. 

 

“alright, alright -- what can I do for ya,  _ Boss _ ?”  

 

“First of all -- disgusting. Second, I need you to do a bit of babysitting. Red has been a bit... _ worse for wear _ lately,” There’s something in the way he says ‘worse for wear’, maybe in the way he leans on it heavily as he speaks, that has Sans hesitating with dread. “As I am currently out of town on a very important business trip that I absolutely will  _ not  _ be missing due to my idiot brother, I need you to go watch over him for a bit.” 

 

“wait, back up-- ‘worse for wear’? what is  _ that  _ s’posed to mean?”  

 

“It  _ means  _ that the last text I got from Red was a selfie of his broken body on the couch, followed by a text that read  _ ‘pour my dust into the dirty magazines under my bed so i can get off one last time.’   _ So, unless you’d like to do the honors, it would behoove you to go check on that sorry sack of bones.” 

 

Edge barely gets the words out before Sans lets the line go dead on his end, gathering his magic and teleporting directly into the living room where Red possibly lies as a pile of dust on the couch. Instead of a face full of powdered skeleton, Sans ends up with his face mere inches from Red’s body, having teleported himself right into the other’s path. Red lets loose a shrill yelp followed by a string of obscenities, some of which the likes Sans has never even heard. He stumbles backwards in surprise and watches Red flail away from him, legs getting caught up on the carpet and sending him sprawling onto his ass with a resounding  _ thud.  _ They stay frozen like that for a moment -- Sans with his hand clutching his chest as his Soul thumps frantically and Red laid out pathetically on the floor with nervous sweat dripping down his skull -- before Sans finally kicks into action, lurching forward and reaching out a hand towards his friend. Red glances back and forth between the outstretched arm and Sans’ face a few times before scoffing and shakily pulling himself up off the floor, adopting an air of nonchalance as though he hadn’t just made a fool of himself.

 

“thought you were dead,” Sans mumbles, warily watching Red drag himself to the couch and drop on to it like dead weight. 

 

“thought ya were at yer own house mindin’ yer own fuckin’ business,” Red gripes back without hesitation. Sans rolls his eyes, unfazed at the attitude he’s come to recognize as nothing more than a front Red uses to hide his anxiety and insecurity, moving to join him on the couch.

 

With emotions somewhat calmed down, Sans finally gets a glance at the condition Red is in; band-aids run up the length of his arms and some sort of medicinal gauze is wrapped around his skull. It’s very shittily done, more like patchwork than actual bandaging. It’s clear Red tried to do this himself. Sans reaches a hand out towards the injuries and Red flinches like he’s been struck -- obviously, the wounds are fresh and must hurt like a bitch.

 

“...you could have called me. i would’ve helped you out, y’know.” 

 

“i don’t need yer help,” Red growls from his end of the couch. He begins to pick anxiously at the bandages on his arms, eyes flitting around the room to avoid Sans’ pointed gaze. “i can take care of myself.” 

 

 _Clearly you can’t,_ Sans keeps to himself, _it’s a miracle you survived long enough to be sitting here complaining._ But it’s not his place to scold Red, to tell him that hey, he’s here, he’s _always_ been here, he can help--! But no, it’s not his place to say anything. 

 

~~ (It could be his place. If Red would just let him in, it  _ could  _ be his place.) ~~

 

They sit silently together, the tension between them so thick you could cut it with a knife. Sans wants so badly to ask Red what happened, ask him what the  _ hell  _ he got himself into, ask him  _ why  _ he didn’t call Sans for help.

 

“you wanna play some video games or something?” Sans asks instead, too cowardly to further their confrontation. The small appreciative smile Red sends his way makes his Soul flutter in his chest. Unfortunately, it also sets off a flurry of butterflies in his (lack of) stomach, and he blushes while scrambling for one of the controllers. When Red decides on that go-kart racing game he’s so fond of, Sans doesn’t really pay much attention to which character or car he chooses; he’s too busy focusing on Red. Out of the corner of his eye socket, Sans takes in the rougher skeleton beside him. 

 

Even when he’s at his weakest, Red still looks formidable and captivating. From the sharp lines of his fangs to the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his arm bones are thicker than Sans can wrap his hands around, even the dark circles under his sockets from fatigue give him an edge of something dark and positively  _ sinister.  _ It really should scare Sans off, but instead, he feels himself get drawn in ever deeper.

 

Sans doesn’t understand it, how his friend manages to capture his attention without doing so much as speak a single word. There has to be a science behind it, some logical explanation as to why his Soul beats faster when he thinks of Red, why he blushes like a giddy school girl whenever Red laughs at his jokes or rivals his puns…  _ Shit,  _ he needs to stop lying to himself. He knows the logical explanation behind it -- he’s in love.

 

“hey asshole, ya ain’t even  _ moving.  _ ya doin’ alright over there?” Sans snaps to attention at the sound of Red’s smug snickering. Without his notice, the race has already begun, and Sans’ racer is still hovering at the starting line. 

 

“why would i bother lapping the track three times when i’m already at the finish line?” When it comes to witty, deflective comments, Sans is the master of them. Red tips his head back with a few barks of laughter and Sans swells with barely restrained delight at the sound. 

 

“don’ think that’s how this game works, sweetheart, but you can keep hopin’.”

 

_ Sweetheart. _ He can feel the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks and he snaps his gaze away to bore holes into the television screen. He watches Red’s character dart across the finish line, knocking into Sans’ kart and sending him spiraling out of control in the process  _ (Bastard. He planned that.)  _ Red cackles like a madman but the cheer of the moment vanishes once the cackling turns into startled, laboring coughs. Sans drops his controller in an instant, scrabbling over to the opposite end of the couch and pawing uselessly at Red’s shoulders. 

 

“Red, holy shit, are you okay? w-what should i do? what do you need?” Through his heaving, Red swats at Sans’ frantic hands. 

 

“i’m f-fine, i’m f- _ ine. _ ” He choked out between hacking coughs. Sans is forced to watch silently at Red’s side as the larger monster curls in on himself, groaning and clutching his chest. In an effort to feel as though he was actually helping his friend, Sans hustled to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and thrusting it towards the other. Red glowers up at Sans and turns away from him sharply, cursing silently as he wheezed out a few more harsh breaths.

 

“what the  _ hell,  _ Red, why won’t you let me  _ help  _ you?” He slams the glass down onto the table with a dull thud, throwing his hands up in exasperation and stepping into Red’s view. He groans, rolling his eyes and leaning back on the couch, turning his glare to the ceiling instead. Fury bubbles in Sans’ Soul at Red’s blatant disregard for his feelings, and his fists clench up as he struggles to keep himself from snatching Red up by the front of his shirt and forcing him to hold his gaze. “i got woken up at  _ six  _ in the morning by your brother  _ on my day off  _ and the first thing i did was teleport myself down here to take care of you, and you won’t  _ let  _ me!” 

 

“i didn’t fuckin’ ask you to, okay? if i needed yer help, i would’a called you myself!” He finally snaps back, glaring at Sans with fire in his eyes.

 

“no you wouldn’t have! you never do!” Sans barks, jabbing an accusatory finger in Red’s face. 

 

“well maybe i never called ya ‘cause i never  _ needed ya!”  _ Red seethes, baring his teeth and actually  _ growling  _ at him. 

 

Sans scoffs and gestures to Red’s battered form. “oh, yeah, you look like you’re doing  _ great.  _ clearly, you’ve got everything under control here!” He matches Red’s gaze with as much intensity as he can muster, trying hard to hide the unpleasant feelings that bubble and churn within him. “you  _ clearly  _ need help! you can’t take care of yourself like this, you need  _ someone,  _ Red!”

 

“i don’t need anyone and i especially don’t need  _ you!” _

 

Sans can almost feel his Soul drop from his chest and he rears back violently as if struck by Red’s scathing remark. He lets out a shaky breath, trying to will away the tears that threatened to spill. “well, guess what, asshole,  _ i _ need  _ you!”  _ And there it is. All his fears laid out on the table for he and Red both to see -- the skeleton of his closet exposed to the world. 

 

Not even a second after he’s said it, Sans recoils in terror, his words catching up with him. It had seemed like a good comeback in the heat of the moment, but now, with Red’s empty sockets boring holes into his Soul, he’d like nothing more than for a swift and painless dusting. Ice cold dread washes down his body and holds him rooted in place. His mouth drops open and snaps shut repeatedly as his mind races, desperately searching for a way to save himself from this blunder. As his sense of panic rises, he’s just about ready to teleport home and die when a familiar rumbling sound catches him off guard. Laughing. 

 

Red is  _ laughing  _ at him. 

 

“a-are you  _ serious? fuck  _ you, Red! this is low, even for you!” He spits out, anger and humiliation dripping headily off every word. Red just shakes his head, the laughter turning from deep belly chuckles into full blown guffaws. Sans can feel his embarrassment begin to ebb away into confusion when Red falls forward to grab his knees for stability. It’s hard to miss the fact that he’s shaking, entire form trembling too harshly for it to be just from his hysterical laughter. “...red, are you okay?”

 

“n-nah,” Red wheezes out between wild giggles, inhaling sharp enough to snort, “i ain't. this… we… we’re so fuckin’  _ stupid.”  _ Upon receiving nothing but a stupified glare from Sans, Red manages to calm himself with a few deep, shaking breaths before collapsing back against the couch and covering his face with a hand. 

 

“this is gonna sound crazy...but ya  _ bread _ er believe i  _ knead  _ ya too, Sans.” For one, fleeting moment, Sans feels his Soul soar before his anger returns to him, cutting sharper than that child’s knife ever could. 

 

“are you-- are you  _ mocking  _ me, jackass?” His hands clench and he feels magic flare and lap at the edges of his eye socket. Red stands up, extending to his full imposing height, and it takes him only two steps to box Sans in against the coffee table. Sans flinches and lets the magic in his socket snuff out. No matter how angry he is, he knows he could never bring himself to harm the other. Instead, he shies away, shrinking in on himself and ending up sprawled out on the coffee table, staring up at Red with eyelights blown wide and hazy. Despite the fact that he could realistically die at any moment, the way Red looms over him, massive and threatening, sends excited shivers down his spine. 

 

Red leans down, pressing his arms against the table on either side of Sans’ and successfully pinning him down. Their faces are impossibly close and Sans has no other choice but to be locked into Red’s gaze. “i’d nev’r mock ya, love.”

 

Sans squeaks-- fucking  _ squeaks--  _ in surprise, the pet name shocking him down to his core. “love? what are you talking about?” Instead of a reply, Sans feels a sudden pressure against his mouth. He blinks a few times in confusion before recognizing the sensation of bone against bone, with red eye lights shining bright only centimeters from his own. 

 

Red was  _ kissing him.  _

 

He freezes in shock, entire body going stiff as a board. Red is unperturbed by this. If anything, it spurs him on, and Sans gasps into the kiss when he feels large hands snaking under his body to hoist him up ever closer. 

His resolve doesn’t just break, it fucking  _ shatters  _ \-- torn to pieces as he wraps his arms around Red’s neck, arching up into the kiss. Red snickers into Sans’ mouth at his sudden desperation. Where once there was anger and hurt in his Soul, now he’s filled to the brim with lust; he can practically taste the desire on his tongue. 

 

Or maybe that’s just Red.

It’s Red who breaks the kiss, pulling back to let out little pants, his breath tickling against Sans’ face. He’s not sure if Red’s labored breathing is entirely from their kiss, what with the way each exhale breaks off in a soft wheeze. If he’s hoping for a break, he’s not going to get one. Sans uses this short lapse in Red’s awareness to teleport the both of them up into Red’s bedroom. There’s a shift in gravity as they drop through the hole in spacetime and their positions are switched, Sans ending up in Red’s lap once they land on the ratty old mattress.   

 

If Sans had ever been asked what he thought his first time with Red would be like (not that he ever imagined it. at length. frequently) he would have said that it would be...romantic. Red would sweep him off his feet and place him on a bed of roses, soothing his nerves with hushed words of encouragement. While he always knew that such a fantasy would never come to fruition, he never could have imagined just how far off base he was. 

Frantically, they pawed at whatever clothing they could reach, spurred on by each other’s heavy breathing and the squeaking of the bedsprings beneath them. Sans rakes a hand down Red’s ribs, catching along the scars that have carved divots into the bone, forcing a lecherous moan out of him. Despite how wonderful it sounds, the reality of it all seems to catch up to him, and Sans leans back a bit to look Red in the eyes. 

 

“wait, hey, what are we-- Red, what are we doing?” 

 

Red gives him a baffled stare before stammering, “uh-- each other, i hope?” 

 

“no! er, i mean,  _ yes,  _ but...are we gonna  _ talk  _ about this? before we make any...hasty decisions?” 

 

“what’s there to talk about? do i need to explain the birds and the bees to ya?”

 

Sans can feel his face glow with embarrassment and he shoves at Red’s chest while the larger skeleton howls with laughter. Pained coughing overtakes his laughter, and Sans jabs a finger at him, growling, “see, this! this is what we should talk about! you’re  _ hurt,  _ and i came over here to  _ help  _ you, remember? not-- not  _ fuck  _ you! what happened to all that  _ ‘i don’t need you, i don’t need anyone’  _ bullshit? what, you only need me when you’re horny? you only need me when you  _ want  _ me?” 

 

“i-- that’s not what i said.. i thought we were on the same page here! yer puttin’ words in my mouth!” 

 

“no i’m not! that’s exactly what you told me earlier! you said-”

 

_ “i was ashamed, okay?!”  _ A strained silence falls between them at Red’s outburst. Sans watches with wide sockets as Red’s face pinches up in frustration, and he refuses to meet Sans’ stare. “i was  _ ashamed  _ a’ myself. i don’t want ya to see me so...so helpless. so  _ pathetic.  _ i mean, what kinda monster worth his shit gets his ass handed to him like this? if i can’t even protect myself, how am i supposed to protect  _ you?  _ it’s better if i keep ya at an arm’s length instead of lettin’ ya in, only to let ya down. _ ”  _

 

For a few moments, Sans is unsure how to respond. 

 

“first of all, i’m perfectly capable of protecting  _ myself.  _ and i don’t think you’re helpless, Red. i think you’re the strongest monster i know-- the only thing that would make you stronger is if you would  _ admit when you need help. _ ” Red’s face turns the color of his namesake, a brilliant cherry glow overtaking his cheeks. 

 

“...ya think i’m strong?” The question is hushed, and Sans almost pokes fun at the nervous note he catches in Red’s voice until he gets a good look at the other’s vulnerable expression. Despite being so big, Red is curling in on himself in an effort to appear smaller; the insecurity is rolling off of him in waves, and his claws are trembling where they clutch the bed sheets beneath him. Sans scoots further up where he’s stradling Red so that he can reach up and cup the harsh edges of his cheek.

 

“i think you’re more than just strong,” Sans purrs, delighting in the way Red’s brow ridges shoot up in surprise.  “i think you’re brave. you never back down from anything that stands in your way, you’re always facing challenges head on. i think you’re kind -- you might not want people to know it, but i’ve seen the way you stand up for the underdog. you’ve gone out of your way to help people who really need it.”

 

Red groans in embarrassment as a warm crimson flush lights up his face. He tries to turn away, eye lights darting around the room to avoid looking at Sans directly. The smaller skeleton tuts softly and slides his palm down from Red’s cheek to hook under his jaw. Rougher than he means to (but apparently  _ just right  _ for Red) he tugs, forcing him to make eye contact as he continues 

 

“and… i think you’re beautiful…  _ sexy.  _ stars, you’re the hottest monster i’ve ever seen. i can hardly keep my eyes off you. you’re so  _ big.  _ i keep imagining how it would feel to be wrapped up in your arms… and, gods, your  _ voice _ ... just your  _ voice  _ has made me lose control. i’ve touched myself just thinking about it.” 

 

Red inhales sharply, shuddering beneath the other as he spoke. “ya... ya think of me when ya touch yerself?” Sans laughs, but it drags out into a desperate moan when he grinds himself down into Red. He punctuates each word with a shaking thrust.    
  


“every. single. time.”

 

Red groans low and long, hips stuttering up to meet Sans’. “why... you could’a told me… we could’a done this a lot sooner…” 

 

Sans scoffs above him, his grinding becoming just a little faster, just a little  _ desperate.  _ “if i had told you sooner, we’d have been fucking for years now.” He’s proud of the lilting purr he manages to capture with his voice, low and soft and right against Red’s skull. He wills himself not to let out a shaky sigh, just a bit too nervous to say this, to admit how long he’s been crushing on the other. 

 

The previous shock on Red’s face disappears in an instant, and a lecherous grin takes its place. Massive claws reach down to grab his femurs but, instead of meeting harsh bone, sink into the plush magic of Sans’ thighs. If Sans thought Red had looked hungry before, he looks positively ravenous now. 

 

“someone’s excited, huh? maybe we should make up fer lost time?” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Follow us on Tumblr!
> 
> @modambrosia  
> @undertale-writing-challenges


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